


ASleepyPhil

by 33lavender



Category: Phandom, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Florida, Fluff, M/M, of course because that's apparently all I'm capable of, set after returning home from florida, which I know was ages ago but I actually wrote it then and I'm only publishing it now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 15:23:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11558001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/33lavender/pseuds/33lavender
Summary: "…Would it really be that much of a shame to add another instalment to the Sleepless Night With Phil series? No, surely not, Phil reasoned, it had been a bit of a stretch between uploads anyway, and he was sure it would be much welcomed."Dan and Phil return from Florida only to engage in a battle of wills - to give in to sleep, or not to give in? - while Dan discovers just how great his own weakness is for an adorable Phil.





	ASleepyPhil

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This is my first phanfic to be published, so if you're reading this, thank you! Don't be scared to leave comments if you liked it, I'd love to hear your thoughts. I wrote this at the time when Dan and Phil were actually returning from Florida, so excuse my lateness in publishing it. This is literally nothing but shameless fluff. Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. I've just started a DnP blog on tumblr, so follow me on @floralhowelllester (v uncreative I know) if you like! X

It almost didn’t feel like they were coming home. 

 

Dan supposed that was mostly to do with the fact that they’d barely had time to make it so - there were still boxes to be unpacked here and there that they’d hadn’t the time to get to before they’d been jetting off to Florida. 

 

On the flight home, subtly tucked into Phil’s shoulder once the lights had been switched off, Dan kept catching himself daydreaming of being able to flop down on the couch in what was now ‘the old house.’ He would shake his head each time; remind himself that they had a new place, now, and the couch he would be settling into in a few hours was grey and, as of yet, lacking a comfortable crease. Quite surprisingly - he thought so, anyway - aside from the first couple of nights, he hadn't been too concerned about the lack of familiarity of their new place. On those nights, Phil would just hush him sleepily, pull him closer against his chest and reassure him that they would soon settle in. It still gave him a jolt, not remembering where he was for the first few seconds after he woke in the morning, like he was in a hotel or a relative’s house. But Phil was there, like he always was, in the room that was just theirs, and as soon as he registered the weight on his bare waist as Phil’s arm his heart rate would settle again. So, quite calmly, he readjusted his imagination to include a grey couch with matching footrest, a bathroom with marble counters and a moon-themed bedroom with a plethora of potted plants littering every available surface. 

 

Nevertheless, he was more than glad when they finally dumped the suitcases they had been living out of for the past three weeks in the hallway, incapable of lugging them upstairs to their bedroom, and fell into a mess of tangled, exhausted limbs onto the lounge. Well, sort of - Phil ended up smushing his face into the rug in a half-hearted attempt to block out the insistent 2pm London sunshine. 

 

“I think we brought a bit of Florida back with us,” he grumbled. Dan knew what was coming, and he was tired too, but…

 

“Phil,” he began warningly. “I know what you’re thinking.” An unidentifiable grunt came from the floor. “We can’t sleep yet. You’ll be up at 3am again making crumpets and waking me up.”

 

“What’s new?” 

 

Dan stretched a leg out and poked Phil’s back. “Come on, sleepyhead, come sit up on the sofa. You’ll fall asleep if you stay there.”

 

An anguished groan that wouldn’t have been out of place had Dan asked Phil to give up one of his kidneys came from the lump that was Phil. He rolled over onto his back, yawning, and reluctantly grabbed onto Dan’s outstretched hand to haul himself up. “Make me a coffee?” He batted his pretty eyes at his boyfriend, irresistible as usual despite the dark circles beneath them. 

 

Dan stood and kissed Phil’s pout. “Sure. But no sleeping while I’m gone. Chuck something on the telly.”

 

“Thank you,” Phil murmured, rubbing his eyes and turning in search of the remote. 

 

Dan shuffled off to the kitchen, picking through the various appliances and bits and pieces yet to be given a home to find the things for coffee. There was still a mug in the sink from the sneaky coffee Phil had had just before they’d left for the airport (and then regretted when the line for the bathroom meant they’d almost missed the boarding call for their flight). 

 

“Hello Kitty mug?” Dan called to the living room. 

 

“Yes, please,” came the gravelly reply. Dan smiled. He dumped in an extra teaspoon of sugar. 

 

 

***

 

Phil waited until the shuffle of Dan’s socks had disappeared into the kitchen before promptly seizing one of the brightly coloured cushions from beside him and pressing it hard into his face. As if London, wet, dreary London, had chosen this particular day to deploy every possible beam of sunlight straight into their living room!? Florida had been amazing, and Phil was not generally someone who was opposed to sunlight, but at that particular moment he craved overcast clouds and drizzle to darken the room and give his tired eyes some relief. 

 

The cushion smelled like their old house. Phil took another deep breath, sighed, and let it fall back onto the sofa beside him. He knew Dan was right; it would mean another ‘Sleepless Night With Phil’ if he let himself drift off now - but God, he hadn’t slept on the plane and his whole body felt like it was made of half-set concrete and it would be so easy just to lay down and nap…

 

“Here you are,” came a voice from above, and then a piping hot coffee was being thrust in front of his face, sloshing dangerously out of Hello Kitty’s head, just as he had requested. Tired or not, the wafting scent of extra-sweet Nescafe Original was always appealing. 

 

“Thank you,” he said again, smiling up at Dan, who pushed a hand through his hair fondly. 

 

“S’alright. Go on, put the telly on, Bakeoff might be on. If you can’t stay awake for Mary Berry then I don’t know what’s wrong with you.”

 

“I’m a bit ashamed of how much I missed British telly,” Phil admitted, switching the set on and taking a sip. He almost moaned in appreciation - he hadn’t even realised how much his coffee-addict self had been craving one. 

 

“Mm, yeah. American TV is too…” Dan took a sip of his own coffee from a glittery Kennedy Space Centre mug, “Loud.”

 

Phil snorted. “Because you’re such a quiet little flower, aren’t you? You never raise your voice or anything.”

 

“No, never. I don’t believe in that.” 

 

One coffee, a piece of Mrs Lester’s chocolate slice that they'd managed to get through customs and three episodes of Great British Bake Off later, Phil was still struggling to keep his eyes open. Everything reminded him of sleep - the quiet babble of the TV, the cushy sofa - and it didn’t help that Dan had placed a leisurely hand in his hair and was lightly massaging his scalp as he scrolled through something on his phone with his other hand. Before one of the contestants had had the chance to prepare the icing for her black forest cake, Phil’s eyelids were fluttering closed. 

 

“Remember I can see you, Mr Philip,” Dan said, tugging lightly at his hair. 

 

“But - ”

 

“I’m doing this for your own good!”

 

“No you’re not! You said yourself you don’t want me waking _you_ up at 3AM. Selfish fish.” He stuck his tongue out, and Dan booped it with the tip of his finger. “Hey!”

 

“Selfish fish, what is that?” he said, chuckling and finally letting his phone drop to his lap.

 

_I could do with some attention_ , Phil thought, now that Dan’s eyes were on him. Maybe that _was_ a little selfish of him, especially when he knew that Dan was only sticking around to make sure he didn't fall asleep - Dan’s normal return from travelling usually involved a quick, relieved kiss and then disappearing into his room indefinitely. He’d been lucky enough to have Dan join him in Florida for his first Lester family holiday, which had meant days and days of Dan’s attention, and even better, being able to show off his boyfriend (within reason, at least). No longer was he the third wheel when hanging out with his brother and Cornelia - he now had his accompanying wheel right there with him, occupying the sixth seat at the dinner table and asking him to take his picture every five minutes and kissing him goodnight in front of Phil’s family before he slumped off to bed while Phil stayed up to finish the movie. As glad as he was to be back in his own home with his own things, this year’s Florida trip had topped them all, for obvious reasons. Even when he’d forgotten the details of the Space Centre or the delicious fruity drinks or winning at mini-golf, what was stamped on his heart forever was the lazy, cuddly sleep-ins, the two-hour long dinners where every five minutes that unmistakeable hyena laughter would fill the entire dining room, the hours spent in the pool, playing like they were kids again. It reminded Phil of earlier times. 

 

Phil shifted so his head was resting on Dan’s thigh, and Dan pursed his lips to hide a smile, but allowed it. 

 

“Only a few hours to go,” he murmured, resuming playing with Phil’s hair. 

 

“I’ll be fine, Dan, if you wanna…you know, go chill out by yourself or whatever.”

 

“No, no, it’s ok. I’ll have time for that.”

 

“We don’t have to film tomorrow. Or the day after that.” 

 

“No,” Dan agreed. 

 

There was happy silence for a while, and they watched the sunbeams inch their way across the carpet as the sun dipped lower in the sky. That was one thing Phil had missed about London; even in summer, the temperature was usually pleasant enough that he could curl up in a spot of late-afternoon sunshine without feeling like he had just stepped inside a microwave. 

 

“Why don't you go take a cool shower?” Dan suggested. “Might wake you up a bit.” 

 

“Are you offering to join me?” Phil said, wiggling his eyebrows. 

 

“No, you idiot, if you’re as tired as you say you are I doubt you’ll even be able to stand for long enough to take a shower in the first place.” He heaved Phil out of his lap with an exaggerated groan. “Go on. Also have a think about what kind of pizza you want and I’ll order it in a bit.”  


“You’re not the boss of me,” Phil muttered as he got to his feet and stretched, but there was only fondness in his voice. Dan pinched his bum as he went. 

 

 

***

 

 

What Dan had failed to account for was the fact that in order to get to the bathroom, one had to pass the master bedroom. The bedroom, which housed their king-sized, warm, soft and incredibly tempting bed. 

 

Phil had tried. He really had. He had even gotten so far as to be running the shower, clad in only his boxers with one hand stuck under the water to test the temperature and the other propping him up against the tiled wall. Towels, shampoo and conditioner were at the ready.

 

The shower in their new place took an annoyingly long time to heat up, and as he waited, blearily wiping his hand over his face in the hopes that the water would force his eyes open, he managed to spy the bed through the open door, practically calling to him.

 

Later, he would insist to Dan that it may well have been the sleep deprivation but he could _definitely_ hear something. _“Philip…Philip…come lay down…”_

 

…Would it really be _that_ much of a shame to add another instalment to the Sleepless Night With Phil series? _No, surely not_ , Phil reasoned, it had been a bit of a stretch between uploads anyway, and he was sure it would be much welcomed. Perhaps even more so if he slipped in a couple well-timed seconds of one of Dan’s shirts on the floor, or a mysterious hand not belonging to him resting in the corner of a shot. Or maybe not. He doubted it would come as that much of a surprise, but after so many years of tactful editing and refraining it was a strange adjustment to make to say the least, and one he often found himself backing out of for the sake of avoiding drama. But that was a problem for future Phil to think about - whatever he decided, it would hopefully be appreciated, and more importantly, it meant he finally got to sleep. It was a win for everybody.

 

Everybody except Dan, but - he’d gotten over worse before. 

 

That didn’t mean Dan didn’t nearly throw something at his boyfriend when he wandered in half an hour later to follow up on the pizza request, only to find Phil spread out on the bed almost completely naked, face down on the duvet and snoring lightly. A balled-up pair of socks did, in fact, go soaring through the air and bouncing off his pale shoulder, now sprinkled with a constellation of sun-induced freckles; Florida’s parting gift to their milky British complexions. 

 

“You absolute twat. I hate you so much, Philip Lester. I’m never going to forgive you for this. I hope your crumpets taste fucking awful,” and other such pleasantries were thrown around as a disgruntled Dan, barely concealing a smile, stomped around (lightly, so as not to wake Phil), picking up Phil’s discarded clothes from the bathroom floor, pulling the blinds and readjusting the pillows so Phil had one beneath his cheek. “You’re the complete worst. Why do I put up with you?” he muttered lovingly as he, too, stripped down to his boxers and pulled one of Phil’s t-shirts over his head. 

 

“Mmf?” came a noise, as one puffy blue eye blearily opened to see Dan crawling in beside him, fitting himself into the curves of Phil’s body and sliding an arm across his back. 

 

“Nothing.”

 

“I fell asleep.”

 

“I noticed, you giant spork. Go on, back to sleep. You can make me a crumpet later.”

 

“Mm.” Seconds later, he was gone again. Or so Dan thought, until a muffled, breathy “love you” reached him. 

 

Now that he was lying down in the dark, with the added warmth of being tucked in next to Phil, Dan realised just how tired he actually was. With the lack of distraction that came with settling down to sleep inevitably came the stream of worry and inner monologue, and Dan could feel it biting at the corners of his mind, threatening to puncture the protection he had built up whilst they’d been on holiday. It had been easier, then, to throw away his worries and immerse himself in the feeling of family - because they were his family, now, and perhaps it had taken him far too long to realise that. But he was exhausted, and thankfully, sleep won out, washing over his mind like the tide coming in; cleansing. It always helped having the gentle rise and fall of Phil’s breath under his arms, too, and as he fell willingly into that rhythm, he slipped into sleep as well. 

 

At least until he was awoken come the early hours of that morning by the bed dipping and creasing and the sound of a croaky, “Hey, guys…”

 

 

Even with his eyes still closed, Dan swore he rolled them so far back he saw the inside of his skull.

 

“Dan’s asleep, so we’ve gotta be quiet. Why don’t we go into the kitchen, I’ll make some crumpets and I can tell you all about the crazy flight attendant on our plane to Florida…”

 

“Phil.”

 

“ - And we swore he was staring at us the whole - what? Oh, he’s awake. Whoops. I don’t think he’ll want you to see him in his pyjamas.” There was the whir of a lens being focused. 

 

“Make me one.”

 

The mattress dipped again, and lips were pressed to the back of his head, where his hairline met his neck. 

 

“You heard the man, let’s go…” 


End file.
